I have my interview tomorrow for my job... and I'm nervous, but excited at the same time. I'll tell you all how it went after...

I don't have a question... so just enjoy the chapter...?
—————————
Before he knows it, it's time for him to leave. He lets out a sigh as he gets up and lets out a sigh. He drags his feet towards the door and exits. Dread fills him. He has to go to his therapist, and tell him the exact thing that causes him to have mental breakdowns. Needless to say, he's not thrilled about having to go.
  Ace has never been to any other therapist, but he's pretty sure it's not natural to feel uncomfortable around them. The man is a good therapist, at times, but it just feels like he has nothing better to do than harshly judge his clients. Though, judging clients is practically the definition of the job. His problem... could lie somewhere else. Like, Ace not liking the way is voice is always monotoned.
The ride to the clinic is silent, he doesn't listen to the radio. He hasn't in forever, it reminds him of his ex. Can he even call her that? Wouldn't she be his late girlfriend? What can he even call her? He's so confused. He even sits outside the building for a few minutes after he arrives just trying to sum up enough courage.
It's been years since her death. It's been years since his first appointment, but the pounding in his chest hasn't gone away. He can feel his heart in his throat. One more breath. Just one more breath. His lungs fill with air slowly, then they empty, and he steps out of the car.
He tells the receptionist that he's here for his appointment, though she recognizes him. Why wouldn't she? He's been coming here for years now, and everyone practically know him by name now. He waits in the waiting room until he gets called back to his therapist's office.
He sits on the couch provided; it's highly uncomfortable. It makes his body ache from sitting on it too long because of how hard it is. It's almost as if the chair absorbs everything that the people who sit on it say. It takes all the pain and suffering they have in their hearts, and retains it in its cushions. Almost as if... it's telling those who are new that they're not alone. That plenty of people go through the same thing. That if they need help... all they have to do is reach forward. To speak up. To let it all go.
But to Ace, it never works. The couch only brings him more pain. There's no reassurance in knowing other people suffer just as him. It only makes it worse. Him knowing that other people have lived through situations like his only makes him feel as if he's not strong enough. Like he's not good enough.
To him, the brown leather is probably the only saving grace on the thing, it's smooth and sets Ace's heart at ease when he strokes it. When he touches it, it reminds him of the feeling of Karissa's hair between his fingers. That brings him peace. Reassurance. Hope, even. It just makes him feel... tranquillity.
  "Ace," his head swivels towards the voice, "Lets begin, shall we?"
  He blinks a few times, his eyes wandering over the face of his therapist. He hasn't changed over all these years, he still has the same hair color and cut, and his eyes are the same shade, same intensity, and he has the same look in them. He hasn't changed, but can the same thing be said about Ace?
  "Alright, I'm going to start," the brown-haired man takes his seat across from Ace and crosses his legs. "How have you been lately? Any episodes I should know about?"
  Ace swallows hard, "Yeah, I had one just this morning. I couldn't sleep... so I got up really early... and I think I remember what happened that night now."
  "That night?" his eyebrow raises, writing something down on the clipboard in his lap. "What night are we talking about here? Remember Ace, be more specific. Clarity is key during these sessions."
  He nods, yes, of course he knows. He's had no rest from these sessions since he entered high school all those years ago. Since he first told someone about his thoughts. He regrets the decision. Has he really gotten any better? Didn't he get worse?
  "The night Karissa died," he whispers, but clears his throat. "The night Karissa died... I think I remember the whole day now..."
  "Really? Would it be too much for you to tell me exactly what you saw?" he hums, continuing to write on the paper in front of him, his eyes leaving the paper briefly to stare at the black-haired man as he shakes his head.
  "I mean... no, I can tell you," Ace forces a smile, the revelation still processing in his mind.
  Yet, he still finds the strength to explain what he saw. What memories his brain couldn't take and hid away in a dark dusty corner. What he doesn't understand, what Ace can't piece together, is why they came rushing back then. Why now?
"Sounds like it was pretty traumatic," the man's voice causes Ace to be brought back to the present situation. "But how do you feel about these new found memories? What do they make you feel?"
"Guilty, mostly," he closes his eyes, dropping his head into his hands. "How could I have been so dense? How could I have been so selfish? How could I have tried so hard to make a relationship that was obviously doomed... work? Why am I the one that got to live? The one that had no future... who had no one to care whether he lived or died... why did I get to survive?"
"One, love is blinding. Two, I honestly don't think you were the selfish one in this relationship," the man stands up, walks closer to Ace before he bends down and places a hand on his shoulder, "And lastly, do you truly think you have no who would miss you? What about your group at work? What about your siblings? Do you really think that they wouldn't be devastated that you'd be gone?"
"Ace, you've been coming to me for years now," his grip on his shoulder tightens. "And I don't think you understand anything I tell you. You have people who love you. You have people who accept you. Yet, you're still so hung up on the past that you can't move forward."
He takes a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh, "Ace, you weren't being selfish in you relationship, but you're being selfish right now. You're carrying a pain and burden by yourself. You're not trying to share it with other people and it's weighing you down."
  "Listen to me," he lets go of Ace and takes a step backwards. "There are people out there who will make you feel worthless. But you're not. And when you prove to them that you aren't, when you become something they can't, when you rise above all their petty insults, when you do something no one else can, when you prove all of them wrong. Yes, it will make you feel good. But it's not enough."
  Ace gets the feeling he's heard this before, almost word for word. But he can't quite place where, "Those people who harm you, won't accept it so easily. They'll start to throw accusations and make you feel like your hard work was for nothing. But they don't matter. Everything that matters is in you. You get to decide which people you care about. Which ones you care about and their opinions of you are the only ones that should matter."
  An alarm starts to go off and it causes Ace to lose his train of thought, "That's all the tome we have for today, I suppose... I'll see you next week, okay, Ace? Take care of yourself until then."
  Ace only nods, he felt like he was onto something back there before the timer interrupted his thoughts. It's there. He's heard that advice before, but where? And how could he forget? Why is it so important for him to know where anyway? It's not like it truly matters. Right?

-